glimpses
by kohee
Summary: A collection of ficlets in less than 1000 words, aka kohee's Code Blue ficlet dump. Mostly Aizawa/Shiraishi.
1. 001: beside her

ficlet; _001: beside her_  
pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi  
word count: 812 words  
note: So I've decided to start a ficlet collection for Aizawa/Shiraishi – partly inspired by **choikimmy** and partly adopting the same idea I had for my other fandom (based off fan community prompts).

Idea for this ficlet comes from **Yuri Hannah,** via a review left on one of my fics – what happens post Aizawa running after Shiraishi in the rain in Season 1. I did write something like this in context for one of my one-shots, but I thought I'll extend it a little. More notes at the end.

* * *

Aizawa didn't know how long they had been soaking in the rain, him crouching beside her, while Shiraishi sobbed as if her heart was breaking. Or perhaps it had already broken; she had already broken into pieces. His hand was still on her shoulder, it had stayed there, since the moment he had placed it there. He didn't feel the discomfort of the rain in his eyes, the wetness of his clothes, or the cramp he was developing on his legs, from crouching down beside her.

He stayed there, right beside her, hand gripping her shoulder, although he was probably giving her minimal or no comfort. But he had to be there. He couldn't get up and walk away. He couldn't leave her alone. He didn't exactly understand why, but all he knew was that he _couldn't_.

So he crouched there, wordlessly, while she cried, in huge heaving sobs, choking on the rainwater, but she couldn't stop crying and he didn't know how to stop her. Eventually, the rain ceased, and her sobs slowed, and he placed his other hand on her shoulder, preparing to help her out.

"Come," he said, his voice low. "You have to go inside."

"Leave me alone," she answered, shrugging his hand off, but he replaced it, clamping down on her shoulder tightly.

"Shiraishi."

She turned to look at him, her face wet with rain and tears, and she looked so vulnerable, so helpless, so _lost_ , that he felt his heart tightening, just a little. "Stand up," he told her, and she did, struggling, and he helped her up. Steadying her, he quickly picked up all her scattered belongings, stuffing them into his pockets, as she watched him wordlessly. Once he was done, Aizawa turned back to her.

She took one step forward, and then she stumbled. Instantly, he gripped her arm, catching her, and then he kept his arm around her shoulders, holding her firmly as they walked back into the hospital. Hiyama and Fujikawa were standing there, and the former draped a towel around her while the latter held a can of hot tea, looking uncomfortable.

Shiraishi didn't acknowledge them, Aizawa told them nothing; he merely pushed Shiraishi towards the locker room, and she disappeared into the showers without a word. He stood outside the showers, back against the wall, arms crossed, forming a small puddle on the floor as he waited. He didn't realise that he was in the women's locker room; if he had realised it, he probably wouldn't care. Because he needed to be there for her.

She came out mere minutes later, in dry scrubs, her eyes downcast, her face wet. He sat her down, on the bench, and gave her the tea that Fujikawa bought. She took it, but she just stared at it blankly. So he took it from her, pulled the tab back, and made her drink it. She finished it, and he took the empty can from her.

"You should go and take a rest at the on-call room," he said evenly, standing up. "Go."

She shook her head, staring at her hands. "I'm fine here," she says, and he heard her voice hitching, and he knew that she was not.

So he sat back down beside her, on the other end of the bench, as her tears started falling again. He didn't say a word, not a single word, as she started crying again, because there really was nothing that he could say.

But he stayed beside her, until she stopped crying, until she was finally willing to move to the on-call room, until she finally fell asleep, exhausted from crying. He didn't leave her.

* * *

Their paths crossed the next day, as she was heading towards the office, and him towards the emergency room. They stopped as they saw each other. Shiraishi's face was drawn, but her eyes were dry.

"Shiraishi," he said, and then he stopped. He still had nothing to say to her. _Are you okay_ just sounded trite and irrelevant. So that was all he said, her name, as he looked at her.

"Aizawa-sensei," she said, meeting his eyes. "Thank you."

He nodded, and then his eyes fell onto the white envelope she was holding in her hands. He raised his eyes to hers, and she met his gaze, her eyes clear. Then she averted her eyes, and side-stepped him, and on a whim, he reached out, and grabbed the sleeve of her scrubs.

"Don't do it," he said.

She paused, and then she told him the truth. "This is the only thing I can do right now."

There were a hundred thoughts running in his head, but nothing that he could actually verbalise, because he couldn't tell her it was all right, because it was not. His hand released its hold on her sleeve, and he could only watch her go.

* * *

A/N: Each ficlet will not be more than 1000 words (in which if it happens, it gets turned into a one-shot). Basically, this is for me to bang out any random thoughts and Aizawa/Shiraishi fancies that I may have in my head, but am too lazy to give them a proper plot.

I welcome all prompts, scenarios and single word prompts, what have you. Just want to keep up my mojo in writing for as long as possible because the movie is yonks away, sobs. Also, lol at me at starting it at 001, I am really ambitious enough to think I'll write beyond 100.

Reviews/comments/suggestions/criticisms are food for the writer's soul 😊 Thank you for reading!

P.S. I…uhh…actually wrote smut for Aizawa/Shiraishi, so if that piques your interest, set your filters to **M** and look for **massage therapy** – be forewarned that it's porn without plot!


	2. 002: sleep

ficlet; _002: sleep_  
pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi  
word count: 752 words  
note: this is something I was working on as a one-shot, but it was going literally everywhere, so I scrapped it, and turned a certain part into a ficlet.

* * *

It was late at night – or rather, very early in the morning, and all was thankfully quiet in the emergency room. Shiraishi yawned, and stretched, raising her arms above her head, but she kept her eyes trained on her laptop. Heaving a little sigh, she reread what she had typed, and then she frowned, pressing the delete button. She had just typed a row of gibberish that made no sense; clearly, she wasn't concentrating all that well. Another yawn escaped her, and she quickly covered her mouth, hiding it with her hand.

Across from her, a pair of eyebrows were raised, as its owner scruntinised her. "Shiraishi," Aizawa said. "Go get some sleep in the on-call room."

"I'm fine," she answered automatically. "I'm just a little tired, nothing that coffee can't take care of."

He stifled a sigh. That was typical of her. Shiraishi was probably the only Emergency doctor who _never_ took a shut-eye in the on-call room. As usual, with her, it was duty over everything else. Even he had occasionally taken naps when he was on-call; after all, he was only human. He didn't insist, because it wouldn't be of any use, so he turned his attention back to his work.

Shiraishi walked out from the office, and came back with two cans of coffee, placing one on Aizawa's table. She returned to her own table, and resumed her report writing, taking constant sips of coffee to increase her concentration. Still, she found herself making typing mistakes, so she stood up, piling papers on top of the keyboard before cradling her laptop with one arm. "Aizawa-sensei, I'm moving to the couch to work. I'm not focusing very well, a change of environment might help."

 _You're not focusing because you're_ tired _, and what you should be doing is to get some sleep while we're not busy,_ he wanted to say to her, but he didn't, because it wasn't as if she would listen to him. So he nodded, and watched out the corner of his eye as she shifted herself to the lumpy couch, yawning as she did so.

A silence settled between them as they continued working. Shiraishi leaned back into the couch – this was definitely more comfortable than the swivel chair – as she studied an MRI report and a brain scan. She read it, and reread it, and somehow, she couldn't really understand it. "Aizawa-sensei, I need your assessment on an MRI and a scan," she said, getting up, and then he looked up, motioning for her to sit down, as he got up and walked towards her.

"What is it?" He asked, as he sat down beside her. She handed him the papers, and he took them, eyes scanning the report and the scan, taking in all the information. "What do you need to know?"

"I'm not sure that I understand the omission of this particular shadow in the report…" she points at the scan as she voiced out her concerns.

He studied the scan again, his brow furrowed. "Can I have the patient's case file?" He asked, and she nodded, handing it to him. He flipped it open, turning to the last few pages for the latest update, reading her notes carefully.

Aizawa was nearly at the end of his reading when he felt a weight on his shoulder. He turned, and saw Shiraishi slumping against his side, her head on his shoulder. She had fallen asleep. His first instinct was to nudge her awake, and make her go to the on-call room, but the drawn and exhausted look on her face stopped him.

Granted, this wasn't the most comfortable way for her to sleep, but if he was to wake her up now, she'd jumped straight back into work; she wouldn't go to the on-call room. He knew she wouldn't. Carefully, he shifted his arm, taking care not to wake her, and slid it around her shoulders, so that she would be more comfortable. Spotting a blanket that someone had left draping over one arm of the couch, he stretched out to grab it with one hand, shaking it out and draping it gently over her, making sure that she was well covered.

He surprised himself by brushing back her fringe, his fingers lingering, brushing against her forehead, and he stopped, drawing back.

Perhaps that wasn't the most appropriate thing to do.

But for now, he would let her sleep, even if it meant that he was tethered to the couch until she woke up.

* * *

A/N: And yes, this is how most ficlets in this collection will go, just snippets of interaction and moments between Aizawa/Shiraishi.

Do hit me with some word or plot prompts if you have any in your mind! **Miranda** and **Ellie,** thanks soooo much for the prompts (and for reviewing!) and I'll work on them once I have the inspiration.

Reviews/comments are love x inifinity! Thanks for reading 😉


	3. 003: birthday cake

ficlet; _003: birthday cake_  
pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi  
word count: 871 words  
note: A second episode of Shiraishi's adventures in the kitchen. More notes at the end.

* * *

Shiraishi studies the recipe book carefully, and then she turns back to the array of baking ingredients on the kitchen island. Her forehead wrinkling in concentration, she measures the flour carefully, and puts it into the mixing bowl, followed by sugar, salt…wait.

"Salt?" she mutters to herself, reading the recipe again, and yes, it says salt. She blinks in confusion, and then shrugs and dumps the required amount into the bowl. She then adds the softened butter, some milk and then she cracks the eggs in. Using a spatula, she stirs the bowl, mixing the ingredients together as instructed by the recipe.

 _This is a lot harder than it looks_ , she thinks. She's been stirring for ten minutes, and it doesn't look right. Bits of butter are clumping together, forming individual balls of flour with runny egg running through it, and it looks kind of gross. It's not definitely the smooth, velvety batter that the recipe said would materialised after she mixes it. Maybe she should try using more strength.

Shiraishi applies extra force, practically mashing the butter into the flour as she tries combine everything to form the batter that is to be her cake. But it really isn't working out, it's not smooth, it's wet and clumpy. Frowning, she grabs her phone, and taps at it. Surely the Internet will know why her batter isn't the way it's supposed to be.

"Ah hah," she says out loud, as she stops scrolling. "Use more liquid. More liquid…milk, or eggs?" Technically speaking, beaten eggs are somewhat in liquid form, right? She really had no idea. Maybe the best idea is to use both. Satisfied, Shiraishi nods to herself as she cracks another egg into the bowl, and adds a cup of milk.

She stirs it vigorously, and to her relief, the consistency starts to change, and the lumps even themselves out, and it finally looks right. Shiraishi then mixes in the cocoa powder and chocolate chips, before pouring everything into the cake tin. She sets the timer on the oven, and puts her cake to bake.

It'll be done in forty-five minutes, according to the recipe book, and Aizawa's birthday cake will be ready for him when he comes home from his shift.

* * *

Shiraishi makes a frustrated noise and throws away yet another batch of watery icing. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out what she's doing wrong. It's supposed to be _easy_. Sighing, she gathered the ingredients again. This is her last bit of icing sugar, if she messes up again, there will be no icing on the cake. Maybe she should go slow on the milk.

She adds the milk, teaspoon by teaspoon, and to her relief, she finally manages to achieve the consistency she wants. At that moment, the oven timer pings, and she quickly pulls her cake out of the oven.

It looks…right. It looks like a cake. Happily, she grabs a spatula, and starts icing the cake.

Which is actually a bad idea, because the cake is still piping hot, and her icing starts melting in runny streaks.

Shiraishi groans.

* * *

Aizawa comes home to a kitchen that looks like it has been hit by a hurricane (bowls and cups piling in the sink, flour and sugar everywhere, milk and remnants of eggs on the kitchen counter), and a wife covered in flour and other baking ingredients, holding out an albeit misshapen cake, covered in some kind of runny cream, and decorated with candles.

"Happy birthday, Kōsaku!" She beams at him, kissing him quickly on the lips.

He's quiet for a moment, and then he takes the cake from her, setting it down on the dining table, and then he kisses her properly and thoroughly.

"I can't believe you baked me a cake," he says, a note of wonderment in his voice. Shiraishi never ceases to amaze him, with the things she does.

She ceremoniously hands him a knife, and he carefully cuts the cake, putting a slice on a plate. He gives it to her before cutting his own. There's a little sparkle in Shiraishi's eye – this is the first cake she has ever baked, and she's excited about tasting it.

Aizawa takes a bite, and then he gives a little cough, before swallowing it. She takes her own bite, and she nearly chokes. The cake is much too sweet, and the texture is dense yet claggy. To put it mildly, it is _not_ good.

She heaves a huge sigh, staring at the cake, and instantly, he slips his arm around her waist, pulling her close to his side. "Don't say a single word," he orders. "The cake is _fine_."

"It's not," she mutters. "It tastes like a mixture of glue and mud."

She looks so disappointed, and he can feel his heart swelling with love for her. "Megumi," he says, "it doesn't matter. All that matters is that _you_ made me a cake, and I love you for it."

Shiraishi looks at him gratefully, squeezing his waist lightly. Sighing, she looks at remainder of her failed cake, and frowns. "I honestly think performing abdominal surgery is easier than baking."

Aizawa laughs, and presses a kiss to the side of her head.

* * *

A/N: I had trouble ending it because it was getting to be exactly the same as the last one-shot I wrote, i.e. repetitive and I had a problem with that, but in the end, I couldn't end it any better, Aizawa is just going to have to keep reassuring Shiraishi and eating all the bad food she makes, hahaha.

There has been some requests for more domestic!married!Aizawa/Shiraishi and I think I'll probably keep exploring that in this ficlet collection. If a plot bunny really hits, it'll get turned into a longer one shot, but I think it's fun to explore them in snippets, too. But do throw any domestic prompts you have my way. 😊

Please do let me know what you think! *loves*


	4. 004: laundry

ficlet; _004: laundry_  
pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi  
word count: 906 words  
note: prompt from **Sakura** : laundry. Also borrowed **a-flowing heat's** scrubs and laundry plot bunny. More notes at the end.

* * *

Aizawa came out of the bathroom, towelling his hair dry. He dropped his towel into the hamper of dirty laundry, and then he paused, staring at the hamper. It was full, nearly overflowing. Both he and his wife had been extremely busy for the past week, pulling countless shifts at Emergency, thanks to Fujikawa taking leave for a vacation with Saejima, before it became too unsafe for the pregnant Saejima to fly. As such, laundry wasn't something they thought of when they had a spare moment for themselves, as there were _much_ better activities to occupy themselves with.

He pursed his lips a little, knowing that there was another collection of dirty clothing in the laundry room; their scrubs, which according to Shiraishi's rules, was a separate batch of laundry. Coming to a decision, Aizawa picked up the hamper of clothing, and headed towards the laundry room.

 _It will be a nice surprise for Megumi when she comes home,_ he thought. He ignored the little voice in his head that told him that he did not exactly know how to operate the washing machine. As a bachelor, Aizawa had always been sending his laundry to the cleaners, and ever since he got married, his wife was the one taking care of the laundry. Hence, he never did the laundry duty for the household in their two months of marriage, so he supposed that it was about time he did.

* * *

He surveyed the two piles of laundry on the floor, unsure of where to start, and being unsure was a kind of a foreign feeling for him. He knew that he should sort the laundry, perhaps. The scrubs did not need to be sorted, he thought, so maybe he should start with the scrubs, and sort the rest while the machine was running. Satisfied with his line of thought, Aizawa pulled open the door of the washing machine, and started piling their scrubs in. Once that was all in, he studied the settings.

 _Normal. Delicate. Cotton. Permanent Press. Wrinkle Control. Heavy Duty. Bulky. Hand Wash. Rapid. Rinse and Spin._

He frowned. Well, scrubs should be 'normal', he supposed. Or should it be 'wrinkle control'? Shiraishi never ironed their scrubs, did she? So it should be 'wrinkle control'. Convinced with his line of logic, he selected the cycle, and the options for the temperature of the water flashed at him next. He paused, and then he chose 'hot'. And then it was the settings for 'rinse and spin', and he had absolutely no clue, so he just selected a random option. Carefully, he pressed the 'start' button, and the washing machine started whirring away.

Aizawa was feeling _quite_ pleased with himself, until he realised approximately five minutes later that he did not put any detergent or fabric softener into the washing machine.

* * *

"I'm home!" Shiraishi called out, a smile on her face as she anticipated seeing her husband. It was extremely busy at the hospital today, so she was looking forward to a quiet night in with Aizawa.

"Ah, welcome home." His voice floated out from within the laundry room. She placed her bag on the couch, and wandered into the laundry room, to be greeted by the sight Aizawa standing in front of the washing machine with his arms crossed, looking at it with an almost murderous expression.

"Kōsaku…? What are you doing?" She asked slowly.

"I'm doing our laundry," he said evenly.

"But why are you glaring at the washing machine?"

"Because it wouldn't start," he jabbed at the selection panel, looking irritated.

Shiraishi peered at the machine. Several lights at certain settings were blinking red. "What did you do before this?"

He frowned, trying to recall. "I accidentally pushed the wrong selection, and I couldn't reselect, so I unplugged the machine and…" he stopped talking at his wife's incredulous expression. "…was I not supposed to do that?"

"I think you jammed the machine," she said, trying not to laugh as a scowl came over his face. "That's all right, I'll call the repairman.." she broke off as loud beeping interrupted her. Aizawa moved towards the dryer, and pulled its door open, unloading their scrubs.

"At least I managed to wash one load," he said wryly.

Shiraishi laughed, and helped him with taking out their scrubs, only to notice that the scrubs with the name _K Aizawa_ looked…extremely small. Frowning, she shook it out. It had definitely shrunk; the shirt right now would barely fit her. "Kōsaku…what settings did you use for the washing machine and the dryer?"

Her husband blinked at her, but said nothing. Shiraishi reached for a shirt marked _M Shiraishi-Aizawa_ _,_ and held it up against herself. It was two sizes smaller. Aizawa groaned softly, leaning against the dryer, and running a hand through his hair. He saved lives by cutting into people's vital organs on a daily basis; how on earth did a washing machine foil him?

Shiraishi dropped the too-small shirt back into the clothes hamper, and took a step closer to him, slipping her arms around his waist as she leaned against him comfortingly. "We'll just order some new scrubs tomorrow."

He sighed, stroking her shoulder softly. "I'm sorry for ruining our scrubs, and for breaking the washing machine."

"That's okay," she reassured him. "It's the thoughts that count. Thank you for doing the laundry."

Aizawa looked at her, and dropped a kiss on top of her head. He really did have the best wife in the world.

* * *

A/N: More domestic!Shiraishi/Aizawa, as requested! I don't know why both of them suck at domestic chores so much in my head, hahaha. But I find the notion that a brilliant neurosurgeon like Aizawa would be completely discombobulated by something as menial as laundry to be amusing, hence the birth of this ficlet.

Writing married!Aizawa/Shiraishi is kind of fun, by the way.

All reviews/comments/suggestions/criticisms/prompts will get cookies and my eternal love. Thanks so much for reading!


	5. 005: grief

ficlet; _005: grief_  
pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi  
word count: 877 words  
note: prompt from **kimimappi** : the passing of Aizawa's grandmother.

* * *

It was a miserable day. The skies were blackened by ominous thunderclouds, and the rain was pouring without any sign of stopping. Fleetingly, Shiraishi thought about how cliché it all was – a thunderstorm at a funeral, yet at the same time, it was so fitting. Even the heavens were grieving the loss of the wonderful, kind-hearted Aizawa Kinue.

She sat at the back of the room, as the ceremony for the wake went on in front. Hiyama, Fujikawa and Saejima were all with her – Fujikawa had wanted to sit right in front, determined to show Aizawa that he was here for him, but Shiraishi stopped him. Instinctively, she knew that Aizawa would not want them up close; he would not want them to see him the way he was now. His face was blank, and his shoulders were rigid with composure, but his eyes, although dry, were red and she noticed the slight tremble of his hands as he bowed to a friend of his grandmother's from the nursing home, who just finished his eulogy.

Aizawa didn't say a single word, did not choose to take the podium to eulogise his grandmother, and Shiraishi understood why. He was never a man of many words after all, and all the words and sentiments in the world would not be enough, to even begin to describe what his grandmother was to him, what she meant to him. He didn't want a public goodbye, not this way.

They took their places in offering their condolences after the ceremony, and he nodded and thanked each of them in his usual monotone, not giving any of them another look. Fujikawa and the rest left soon after, but something compelled Shiraishi to stay, so she did. She stood outside the hall, her hands twisting themselves together as she waited. She didn't know what she could realistically do, but she just wanted to be there.

She waited, but he didn't come out, and after a while, she peered into the hall, and saw him sitting in front, staring straight ahead. Gathering her courage, she walked in, and sat down next to him.

He turned to look at her. "What are you still doing here?" he asked flatly, face twisting slightly. Perhaps she had intruded upon his grief, but she felt that she couldn't leave him alone.

"Aizawa," she started, and then she stopped. She didn't want to say the reassuring words, because she knew they would not comfort him, not now. Words would only be hollow and empty. So she said nothing, looking at him resolutely, her eyes letting him know that she was here for him.

He looked away from her. "I'm fine."

He wasn't, she knew. He had been trying to control his emotions for too long, trying to maintain that façade, but the reality was that he desperately needed to grieve for what that had been lost.

"I loved her," he said suddenly. "All my life, she was the only person I had ever loved, and she was the only person who loved me. And I never told her." And then his composure finally cracked, and his grief poured forth, as he leaned forward, his shoulders hunched, burying his face in his hands. "I never told her that I loved her…" he choked out, and Shiraishi's heart ached.

Moving closer to him, she reached out, hesitating for only a moment, before she slid her arm around his shoulders. Almost instinctively, he moved closer to her in his moment of anguish, his head dropping on her shoulder as he shook with silent, uncontrollable sobs. She had never seen him like this, so vulnerable and raw with pain, grief and regret, and her heart constricted.

"She knew," she told him, tightening her arms around him. "There's no need for regret. It's okay that you never said it, because she knew."

He said nothing, he couldn't say anything, but she hoped he understood. Words were just that, words, and Shiraishi was sure that Aizawa Kinue knew how much her grandson loved her, even if he never said it.

She continued sitting there, staying by his side as he finally allowed himself to grieve fully. She didn't leave him, just as he never left her, all those years ago, in the rain.

* * *

Aizawa returned to work two days later, looking as he usually did, composed and collected in his Neurosurgery scrubs as he walked into Emergency to assist with a subdural hematoma. He acknowledged her and the rest of the team with a nod, and immediately launched himself into the surgery, and not another word was exchanged.

Shiraishi found him at the launchpad after work, sitting on the railing, hands clasped together. He wasn't surprised when she took her place at the other end of the railing; it was almost as if he was expecting her.

They sat in companionable silence, and he turned to her after a while. "Thank you," he said simply.

She gave him a small smile, knowing that he was still hurting, still mourning, but he had taken that first step towards remembering his grandmother with fondness and not with regret. And she hoped that he knew, that as long as he needed her to be, she would be here for him.

* * *

A/N: Grief is indeed not easy to write at all. The next ficlet will hopefully be more cheerful.

Reviews are love 😊


	6. 006: first kiss

ficlet; _006: first kiss_  
pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi  
word count: 819 words  
note: unconventional first kiss, perhaps, or maybe not.

* * *

Aizawa had thought about kissing Shiraishi, more often than he'd like to admit to himself. Since the day he told her that _she's interesting_ (or maybe even before that), he had imagined it often, their first kiss. Because he knew that he will kiss her eventually, it was just a matter of when.

He imagined their first kiss to be soft, tender, maybe even hesitant. It would be an exploration of his feelings towards her, or perhaps _their_ feelings towards each other. He would take it slow, be gentle with her, because she was so, so precious.

And he always thought that he would be the one to make the first move; he would be the one to kiss her first.

Never, not even in his wildest imagination, did he ever think that it would happen this way, Shirashi backing him against the wall in front of the entrance to her apartment, her fingers clutching at the lapels on his coat as she kissed him aggressively.

One moment, he had been steadying a drunk Shiraishi while trying to retrieve her keys from her bag, and the next moment, she was pinning him to the wall, her mouth on his. He was too shocked to even kiss her back, until she slipped her hand to the back of his neck, pulling his head down towards hers so that she could kiss him more thoroughly.

There was a voice in his head reminding him that she was drunk, and he really shouldn't be doing this, but this was _Shiraishi_ , Shiraishi's lips against his and Shiraishi's hands on his chest, and he had wanted this for so long. So he kissed her back, arms wrapping themselves around her waist as he drew her closer to him, taking control of their kiss, parting her lips with his tongue. She tasted like a mix of vodka and honey, all heat and sweetness, and he could feel his self-control slipping as she delved into his mouth. He only had two beers and a whiskey, but he was starting to feel as drunk as she was.

They kissed until they ran out of air, and he pulled away, trying to catch his breath as she leaned against him, a slight giggle escaping her. She reached up, and poked a finger into his cheek. "You're so cute, Aizawa," she hiccuped slightly. "I really like you, you know? I really like…" her voice trailed off as she hiccuped again.

Aizawa tried to get his spinning head under control, as he finally fished out her keys, and then he had to practically carry her into her apartment. He didn't think it was appropriate for him to enter her bedroom, so he laid her down on the couch instead, taking off her shoes and her coat. He found a kitchen towel, and he wetted that with hot water, placing it on her forehead. He also found aspirin, and he placed them on her coffee table, beside a glass of warm water.

Sighing, he sat at the edge of the couch, looking at her. She had drifted off, her cheeks flushed, as a slight snore escaped her. He placed his hand on the towel over her forehead, fingers brushing back her bangs.

Shiraishi wouldn't remember this when she woke up, he knew. She might remember _something_ , but because it was so ridiculous, so incredulous, so uncharacteristic of her, that she'd probably brushed that off as a dream. He would the only one who would remember this.

This was all Hiyama's fault. If only she hadn't made Shiraishi drink all those vodka shots.

* * *

"Good morning," Shiraishi said tiredly as she dragged herself into the staffroom, hiding a yawn. Shuffling to her desk, she opened her drawer, and took out a strip of aspirin. Aizawa was the other person there, and he looked up at her. "God, I'm never drinking again," she muttered, downing two tables with a gulp of water.

"Hn," he answered noncommittally, his eyes focused on his laptop. Last night's memory was still too fresh for him, and he found himself wanting to avoid her.

She stared into the space, and it was quiet between them, until she leaned forward in a hesitant manner. "Aizawa-sensei, about last night. I just want to ask, did something…" she stopped, and then she shook her head. "Never mind."

"Good morning!" Hiyama breezed in, looking fresh as a daisy. "You look like shit," she addressed Shiraishi.

"It's all your fault, you know," Shiraishi retorted, and Hiyama laughed.

"Well, you're fun when you're drunk," she smirked. "By the way, Aizawa, thanks for taking her home yesterday," she said, throwing them a wave as she headed out towards Emergency.

At that, Shiraishi's shoulders stiffened, and she whipped around to look at Aizawa, her eyes wide, as realisation dawned upon her face.

As it turned out, he wasn't the only one who remembered their first kiss.

* * *

A/N: it does not get any more random than this, hahaha. Oh well, I am guilty of trying to make them get it on all the time…because I am deprived by Code Blue writers, that I am.

Reviews/comments will be much loved!


	7. 007: second kiss

ficlet; _007: second kiss_  
pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi  
word count: 878 words  
note: gotten a few reviews asking for a follow-up of some sort to the first kiss, so here you go! Follows directly where the last chapter left off.

* * *

 _Oh. My. God._

When Shiraishi woke up with a pounding headache from a massive hangover, and a vague memory of kissing Aizawa outside her apartment, she was very sure that she had dreamt the entire thing. After all, it was a pretty ludicrous idea, why would she be kissing Aizawa? For the matter of fact, why would Aizawa be kissing _her_? So she had chalked it up to some crazy figment of her imagination that was conjured up from the vodka. Even though she could feel her cheeks burned whenever she thought about the imagined kiss, because, well, it was pretty damn hot, for a dream.

But hearing Hiyama's casual, flippant words just brought forth the details of her so-called dream – only, now she knew that it was not a dream. Her face grew redder and redder as she gawked helplessly at Aizawa, not knowing what to say. Meanwhile, he merely looked at her, an eyebrow raised, saying nothing.

Saying that Shiraishi was flustered and embarrassed was a massive understatement.

"I…errr…I have to…go…somewhere…there…" she fumbled, gesturing mindlessly with her hands, before she ducked her head and practically ran out of the staffroom. If it was possible to die from complete mortification and embarrassment, Shiraishi was pretty sure she would be six feet under right about now.

* * *

 _I have to apologise_ , Shiraishi thought, wincing inwardly to herself. All day, she had agonised over the eventual conversation to be had with Aizawa. But she had to apologise, and she just wanted to get that over and done with. So she steeled herself, and forced herself to walk to their usual spot at the Heli launchpad, where she knew he'd be.

Sure enough, Aizawa was there, sitting on the railing, staring pensively at the Heli, almost as if he was waiting for her. He looked up as she approached him, wearing the same nonchalant expression he had in the office. She stopped in front of him, mustering all the courage she had and trying to banish her feelings of embarrassment, so that she could say what she needed to say.

"Aizawa," she began, twisting her hands nervously, already sensing that her cheeks were starting to flame. "I'm…I'm really really sorry. About yesterday." Still, he looked at her silently, and she ploughed on. "I was…err…I wasn't…I mean…wasn't thinking, I…" Her gaze landed on his mouth, and the memory of that mouth on hers surfaced, and Shiraishi could feel herself getting even redder, as her mind literally blanked over.

 _Stop! Do_ not _think of_ that _…focus on apologising!_

"What I want to say is…it was wrong of me to behave the way I…I mean, I shouldn't have just…" The brain that got her through medical school with top honours was failing her, and her words were not coming out right at all. "Anyway, it was…I mean…I wasn't…" Damnit, she was stuttering now, because she was remembering more of it, what had happened yesterday, the intensity of the way they had kissed each other.

"Shiraishi," Aizawa said calmly, interrupting her stream of words. "It's all right."

"It is?" She echoed in surprise, and he tilted his head slightly, seemingly scrutinising her, before he nodded. "Well, okay then," she said tentatively. _What do I do now? Thank him? Shake his hand? Walk away?_

As she gazed at him uncertainly, the corner of his mouth lifted in a slight smirk. "It's all right, because I rather enjoyed it."

Shiraishi was smiling at him gratefully, relieved that he wasn't upset, or angry with her, when his words penetrated her mind. _Wait, what?_

Aizawa had hopped off the railing, and he was standing in front of her, standing very close to her, as a matter of fact, entering her personal bubble of space. She didn't step back, instead, she looked up at him, eyes wide, as a mix of emotions – among them, trepidation and anticipation - rushed through her. He gave her a small smile. "You told me you like me."

"I did?" she squeaked out. Did she? Now this, she didn't remember.

"Did you mean it?"

She closed her eyes; savouring his nearness, as she finally admitted that truth to herself, and to him. "Yes, I did." she said quietly.

 _Yes, I do. I like you, I really like you._

He placed his hand on her cheek, his fingers light, and he bridged the gap between them. This time, he was the one who kissed her first.

His kiss was soft, gentle, as he glides his lips over hers, his other hand caressing her hip. Shiraishi definitely remembered this, the feeling of his mouth against hers, and although there was none of the fire and the heat from yesterday, she still felt her heartbeat increasing, thudding against her chest, as she grasped his forearms, and kissed him back.

Aizawa eventually deepened their kiss, a slow and sensual exploration as he curved his hand around the back of her neck and ran his other hand down her back, pulling her closer to him. She aligned their bodies together, her hands on his shoulders as she followed his lead, her lips mapping his. It was passionate, but it was tender, because they would be taking this slow.

This kiss, their second kiss, she would remember unequivocally, and so would he.

* * *

A/N: Anyone up for a third kiss? Wahahaha :P

I've been receiving _a lot_ of lovely prompts from you lovely lovely readers, and rest assure I'm working through them and mapping out all the bunnies. Work has been tripled because blah blah and my time for writing has been reduced so significantly sobs.

Reviews and comments (and more prompts) are love to the infinity!


	8. 008: umbrella

ficlet; _008: umbrella  
_ pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi  
word count: 692 words  
note: something I conjured up in my lunch break while taking a breather from a 4-hour meeting. It's super short but since it's written, thought I'll post it anyway. Word prompt from **Ellie** , thank you!

* * *

It had been threatening to rain all day, not that Shirashi had noticed it. She was too engrossed in trying to record every single moment of the emergency medicine conference she was attending. She alternated between typing and writing, choosing to use the pen and paper when there were diagrams she needed to capture. As she leaned back and flipped through her notes, only half paying attention to the closing address, she fleetingly thought about how she must had resembled the honor student that Aizawa had once said she was, with all her earnest note-taking. A loud clap of thunder interrupted her thoughts, and she glanced out of the window, seeing two flashes of lightning before the rain started pouring.

Sighing inwardly, Shiraishi berated herself for forgetting her umbrella. It had been forecast to rain, and Hiyama had reminded her, before she left the hospital for the conference. However, Haitani had trouble with a procedure, and she had stepped in to help him. Because of that, she had to rush to make it to the conference on time, and the umbrella had conveniently slipped her mind.

She calculated the time in her head; the conference was going to end soon. Given the time for networking and talking to the other emergency specialists in the room, she probably would be done within an hour, which was hopefully ample time for the rain to stop.

Unfortunately, it was still pouring an hour and a half later, and she desperately needed to return to the hospital. She had no choice, but to brave the rain. Approaching the main entrance, she made sure that her laptop was stored safely inside her bag, and would be protected in there. Taking a deep breath and holding the conference folder over her head, she stepped out into the pouring rain.

But she wasn't greeted by the cold rainwater wetting her hair and her skin, instead, she remained dry, protected by an umbrella that had somehow materialised above her head. Confused, she turned around to see Aizawa holding an umbrella over her head.

"Aizawa?!" She was surprised, to put it mildly. "What are you doing here?"

"Bringing you your umbrella," he answered. "You left it in the staffroom."

"Yes, I know I did but…" Shiraishi was still confused, did Aizawa make the trip just to deliver her umbrella? "Did you come by just to bring me my umbrella?" she asked, echoing her thoughts.

Aizawa said nothing. He handed her her umbrella, indicating that she should hold it. As she took her umbrella, he shook out his own, stepping away from her and opening his umbrella, shielding himself from the rain.

"Come," he said, and started walking towards the direction of the hospital.

Shiraishi smiled, and fell in step beside him. The rain slowing down to a lighter drizzle, but she still appreciated the protection of the umbrella. As they walked, a realisation overcame her. "Aizawa, I thought your shift has ended? Shouldn't you be heading the other way instead, to go home?"

"I'm walking you back to the hospital," he said simply.

"Really? But it's completely out of your way, you really don't have to walk me back," she protested mildly, not wanting to trouble him. He had already delivered her her umbrella. Although she was still albeit confused as to why he would purposely do that. Without giving it much thought, she voiced the question in her head. "Why did you come all the way, just to give me my umbrella, anyway?"

He stopped walking, and turned to look at her, his face stoic as usual. "Because," he said clearly. "I wanted to."

"Eh?" She stared at him, not quite understanding. _Because he wanted to? But why would he want to come out in the rain?_

Aizawa tilted his head a little, keeping his gaze on her for a few seconds, and suddenly, she felt unnerved at the intensity in his eyes. Then he turned away, and continued walking. "Are you coming?" he asked, over his shoulder.

"Y…yes," she said, flustered, as she quickened her step, and caught up to him, his words still playing in her head.

 _Because…I wanted to._

* * *

A/N: because I like the idea of Aizawa making sure Shiraishi does not get caught in the rain, and is willing to go all out to ensure that. :D

Reviews/comments are love!


	9. 009: morning after

ficlet; _009: morning after  
_ pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi  
word count: 888 words  
note: Another ficlet featuring somewhat drunk!Shiraishi.

* * *

Shiraishi woke up to a slight ray of sunlight streaming in through her curtains. She blinked, feeling just a little bit disorientated, still feeling the effects of the alcohol she had yesterday. They were celebrating Hiyama's engagement, and she had been so happy for Hiyama and Ogata-san. She cheerily took every single drink handed to her by the bride-to-be, and then she must have drunk more than she could handle. Again.

Still half asleep, she sat up, wincing as a dull pain throbbed throughout her head. Rubbing the side of her head, her gaze drifted to the floor, landing on her crumpled blouse, and her slacks lying not far away. She looked down, and then she realised that she wasn't wearing anything. She frowned, her brain rewinding itself.

She remembered stumbling out of Mary Jane's bar, feeling _extremely_ giddy and happy, hugging Hiyama and laughing a lot. She then vaguely remembered a conversation about sharing a cab (because they were all more or less drunk), and Hiyama had shoved her and Aizawa into a cab together, because they were going the same direction. They had reached her apartment first, and she had nearly fallen over getting out of the cab…and then she remembered Aizawa getting out of the cab and grabbing her arm, muttering something about her always drinking more than she could and should. She had reacted to that by saying something snappy back at him – though she forgot what she had said.

And then he had kissed her. Or maybe she was the one who kissed him. And then…Shiraishi gasped and placed her hand over her mouth as all her memories came flooding back to her in a rush. Them stumbling into her apartment together, into her bedroom, and she had pushed Aizawa down towards her bed, straddling him as he took off her blouse…

 _Oh my god,_ she thought, as colour flooded into her face, along with the recollection of the more…explicit details of everything else that had transpired between them. Frantically, she looked beside her, to see only rumpled sheets, and nothing else.

Aizawa was gone. His clothes were gone, too.

She stared at the empty spot beside her, as feelings of embarrassment, disappointment and hurt rushed through her. Hurt, mostly, if she could be truthful to herself. Yes, it was awkward, but they were both drunk, and she honestly thought their friendship meant more than this. How could he just leave like this? How was she supposed to act around him, when she sees him at work later? Pretend this never happened? Probably she would have to, since he just _left_ , without a word _._

If he was going to be flippant and casual about this, as if it didn't mean anything, as if it changed nothing, then she would just react accordingly. But she truly expected him to acknowledge this, drunken mistake or not.

Swallowing her emotions, Shiraishi reached out and grab her robe, slipping it on. Taking a hot shower would make her feel better, she thought. As she was about to step into her bathroom, she heard a sound outside her bedroom, and she froze. Cautiously, tightening her robe around herself, she opened the bedroom door, and walked out.

Aizawa was in her kitchen, his hair slightly rumpled but he was fully dressed, as he stood at the kitchen counter, his arms crossed, his eyes on the kettle. There were two mugs beside the kettle, as well as her coffee canister.

He looked up as she approached. "Good morning," he said calmly. "I took the liberty of making coffee, I hope that's all right."

She just stared at him, as relief flooded over her. He didn't leave; he was still here, and she didn't quite know what to say. The kettle whistled, and he turned his attention back into towards it, making two mugs of coffee and placing one in front of her.

As he sipped his coffee, eyeing her over the rim of his mug, he frowned a little, taking in her wide-eyed stare. "Shiraishi," he put down his mug. "Are you all right?"

Without thinking, she blurted out the first thought in her mind. "I thought you left."

He tipped his head, looking at her. "You thought I left," he echoed. "You actually thought I'd just leave, without saying anything to you?"

Shiraishi averted her eyes guiltily, her cheeks burning, as she coughed awkwardly.

"Is that how you really think of me?" His tone was mild, but knowing him as well as she did, she heard the veneer of hurt beneath his words.

She cleared her throat, fiddling with her mug. "I don't know what to think," she answered honestly. "Yesterday was…well…we didn't, at least, I didn't mean for…and I don't know what you're thinking," her words came out in a rush. "Maybe it was nothing to you, for all I…"

"Shiraishi," he interrupted. "It wasn't nothing. It _isn't_ nothing."

Her heart thudded, as she looked up at him. Aizawa leaned forward, and he rested his hand against her cheek, his touch gentle. "Is this okay?" He asked quietly, his eyes clearly saying there was a lot more to the question that he was asking her.

Shiraishi could feel a smile spreading across her face, as she placed her hand on top of his. "Yes," she said. "Yes, it's okay."

* * *

A/N: Someday, I'll write a drunk!Shiraishi who is _not_ romantically aggressive/does not accost Aizawa at any chance she gets, hahaha.

The usual drill: Reviews and comments are love to the infinity ~


	10. 010: first kick

ficlet; _010: first kick  
_ pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi  
word count: 801 words  
note: does this constitute as domestic!Aizawa/Shiraishi? Maybe?

* * *

Shiraishi took her last bite of beef and chewed blissfully, leaning back in her chair with a contented sigh. Across from her, Aizawa was finishing the last of his soup, putting down his bowl when he was done. She smiled at him, resting her hand briefly on top of his. "Thank you so much for cooking dinner."

It had been a revelation of some sorts when it was found out that Aizawa was the better cook, when compared to Shiraishi, so as it went, cooking duties had mostly befallen him when his schedule allowed him to cook. Not that he minded, he actually enjoyed cooking to a certain degree, it managed to relax him somewhat. Besides, he liked the idea of cooking for Shiraishi, of being able to spoil her with food.

Shiraishi started piling the empty bowls and dishes together, and she was about to stand up and take the bowls to the kitchen when Aizawa gently took the bowls from her. "Sit," he said, collecting the chopsticks as well as the sauce plates.

"Kōsaku," she protested. "You had already cooked tonight, so I'll do the washing up."

"That was before," he took the bowls and the cutlery to the kitchen sink, and turned on the tap.

Shiraishi sighed, smiling to herself, as she pushed her chair back, standing up carefully. She was nearly five months pregnant, and Aizawa had increasingly been stopping her from doing the most menial tasks, taking up the responsibility of all the household chores. She leaned against the kitchen counter gingerly, watching him as he carefully soaped the bowls. "I _can_ do the dishes, you know, I'm pregnant, not disabled."

He shot her a disapproving look. "You've been on your feet all day in Emergency. The very least, you should rest when you're home."

"Well, _you've_ been on the Heli all day," she pointed out. "If anything, you need more rest than I do." She had stepped down from Heli duty shortly after finding out she was pregnant. She didn't do it without a fight; Shiraishi had firmly believed that she would still be able to fly up to her first trimester, but she was one voice against five voices: her husband, three of her best friends, and her boss. So with reluctance, she had given in.

"I'm fine," he rinsed off the chopsticks and placed them in the dish drying rack. "Why don't you go lie down on the couch?"

"All right," she agreed, knowing there was no deterring her husband. He would not let her wash the dishes, and that was that. Stepping behind him, she slipped her arms around his waist, and rested her cheek against his back. "Can I have pineapple ice-cream with chocolate sauce for dessert?"

He laughed, nodding his head, refraining from commenting on the strangeness of her cravings. Shiraishi was not a fan of sweet things, but her pregnancy had made her crave for sugar, in rather unusual combinations at times. She tightened her arms around him momentarily, giving his waist a squeeze, before letting go.

As she turned to head into the living room, her eyes widened, and Shiraishi reached out, clutching the hem Aizawa's shirt. "Ow," she said, putting her other hand on her belly.

A look of alarm flashed across Aizawa's face, as he turned off the tap and wiped his hands dry, encircling his wife's shoulders with his arms. "Megumi? What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing's _wrong_ …but…" her face was a picture of concentration as she took her husband's hand, and placed it on her stomach. He looked down, slightly puzzled, as she held his hand to her stomach. "Wait…just a moment…"

And then Aizawa felt it, just the tiniest vibration against his hand. He sucked in a breath, as he looked at Shiraishi, and she smiled at him, a beatific smile. "The baby is kicking," he said in wonderment, caressing her stomach, and then he felt it again, as their baby, safe and protected in Shiraishi's womb, moved again.

"It feels really surreal," Shiraishi squeezed his hand, a note of quiet amazement in her voice. It had suddenly become a lot more real, the fact that there was life growing inside Shiraishi, a little person that they made together, who was now moving and kicking, almost as if it's asking for attention from its parents. She laughed as the baby kicked again, and they both felt it, at the same time. "It's saying hello to us."

Aizawa rarely got emotional, if ever at all, but at that moment, he could feel the love he had for his wife and their baby overwhelming him. He raised his eyes from her abdomen to her face, and he leaned in, nuzzling her neck and kissing her. "I love you," he told her, and she smiled against his lips.

"I know."

* * *

A/N: I was actually working on ficlet where Shiraishi is in labour but got stuck (super stuck) so I veered off and came out with this instead, haha.

On another note, just wanna say thank you all for all the lovely lovely reviews left on this collection so far. I've hit 10 ficlets, so here's to the next 10! You all rock and I appreciate each and every review!

Please do leave me more reviews/comments :P Love to all!


	11. 011: busted

ficlet; _011: busted  
_ pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi  
word count: 815 words  
note: Another one of those clichés!

* * *

Hiyama hummed under her breath as she buzzed herself through the front entrance of Shiraishi's apartment complex. As she waited for the lift, she pulled out her phone; Shiraishi had not replied to the message she sent half an hour ago, announcing her impending arrival. Shrugging, Hiyama tapped out another message, adding a line of beer emojis. Shiraishi had taken a rare day off to prepare for her presentation at an emergency medicine conference tomorrow. On a whim, as she was preparing to leave the hospital after her shift, Hiyama decided to drop by Shiraishi's apartment. She knew that Shiraishi would be going through her presentation no lesser than ten times, so she thought perhaps a little relaxation was in order. A short break, with a couple of cans of beer, like what they usually do when they lived together.

Reaching Shiraishi's apartment, Hiyama was about to open the door with her spare key, when she hesitated. There still was no reply to her messages, and her best friend had given her a mini lecture the last time she showed up unannounced and used her key ( _it's a spare key, Hiyama!)_. Sighing inwardly, she knocked on the door instead, and waited. The door opened about thirty seconds later, and Shiraishi peered out, wearing a tank top and shorts, her hair in a disarray.

"Hiyama!" she squeaked out, looking unusually flustered.

Hiyama eyed her friend's messy hair critically. "I knew you'd be working too hard. You need to relax before tomorrow, so I am here to make you do just exactly that," she said cheerfully. She was poised to enter the apartment when Shiraishi shifted her body, partially blocking the doorway.

"Hiyama, errr…it's kind of…not a good time. I mean, I'm already dressed for bed, and…" Shiraishi's voice trailed off as Hiyama stared at her.

"What? Has all that studying fried your brain? This is me!" Hiyama pushed Shiraishi aside, barging into the apartment. "We used to live together, remember? I practically saw you naked…" she stopped in mid-sentence as she took in the scene in the living room: books, papers, scribbled notes strewn around Shiraishi's laptop on the coffee table, and a very unperturbed Aizawa sitting on the couch, reading a medical textbook.

 _Aizawa_. In Shiraishi's apartment, and it was nearly ten o'clock at night. She said that first thing that came into her mind. "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting," Aizawa said calmly, turning a page.

"Visiting!?" Hiyama sputtered, noting that Aizawa was wearing what that looked suspiciously like pajamas; sweatpants and a faded T-shirt. She swivelled around to look at Shirashi, who was blushing so hard that she was starting to resemble a giant tomato, and back at Aizawa, who was as still unruffled as ever. "You mean…the two of you…since when?" She couldn't believe it. Well, no, yes she could actually believe it, because these two had been dancing around each other practically forever, but still.

"Urmm…a while ago," Shiraishi muttered, her face still red.

"A while ago?" Hiyama echoed. "How long ago was 'a while ago'?"

"Hiyama, I hardly think this is really any of your business," Aizawa said dryly.

"Kōsaku," Shiraishi admonished, as Hiyama gaped.

" _Kōsaku_?" She was aware that she was beginning to sound like a parrot but her usually brilliant brain was not really working right now. She couldn't believe how quiet they had managed to keep it. She suddenly noticed that Aizawa's hair was rather messy, too, and something else clicked into place.

It seemed like she had interrupted at a very inopportune moment.

Hiyama backed away, towards the door. "Well, in this case, I really think I've disturbed enough…so…good night!" She grabbed Shiraishi's arm as she headed towards the door. "You are telling me everything tomorrow, and I mean _everything_."

"Hiyama…"

" _Everything_."

* * *

Shiraishi closed the door, heaving a sigh of relief. Aizawa put down his book as she padded towards him, sitting down and leaning against him, her head on his shoulder. "That was awkward," she said.

He slipped his arm around her, and stroked her shoulder in an affectionate manner. "She would've found out eventually."

"I know, but it would be under less awkward circumstances," Shiraishi pointed out. "I was going to tell her."

"Hn," he said, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "Well, I suggest that we continue what we were doing before we were interrupted."

"Ah," Shiraishi straightened herself, and reached for her laptop, bringing up her presentation slides. "Can you help me look at this diagram, and…"

"Megumi," he cut in, closing the lid of her laptop. "We weren't looking at your slides when Hiyama barged in." A smile was playing about his lips as he looked at her, and she blushed.

"Oh," she said, and as Aizawa pulled her to him, that was the last thing she said for quite a while.

* * *

A/N: Relationship reveal trope! In my head, Hiyama is always going to be the one who finds out first, haha.

Reviews and comments are love! More prompts are also welcomed, although I still have so many to work through :P

P.S. On a very random and off topic note, I found out today that Horikita Maki is MARRIED and RETIRED with a KID. Oh, my Yamaki shipper heart mourns.


	12. 012: the talk

ficlet; _012: the talk  
_ pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi  
word count: 880 words  
note: With some continuity from the last ficlet.

* * *

Shiraishi leaned back in her chair and stretched, raising her arms over her head, working out the kink on her back. Her shift ended an hour ago, but she had chosen to stay back, catching up on reports. Besides, Aizawa was still in surgery, and she had promised to wait for him so they could go for dinner together. She was just about to resume her report writing when Fujikawa entered the room, stethoscope in hand. "Ah, Fujikawa-sensei," she greeted. "Good job today."

"Good job today," Fujikawa returned, smothering a yawn. He glanced at Shiraishi, and then he pulled a chair, sidling up next to her. She looked at him questioningly, and he gave her a mischievous grin. "So, I heard _some news_ from Hiyama."

Shiraishi stifled a sigh. True, she didn't ask Hiyama to keep her discovery a secret, but she couldn't help feeling the teeniest bit annoyed that her best friend had blabbed, and to Fujikawa no less, Shohoku's resident king of gossip. Granted, Fujikawa was one of her closest friends, but still. She would like the option of telling him herself when she (and Aizawa) was ready. "Uh huh," she responded, keeping her tone casual.

"Does Haruka know?" he asked, his expression inquisitive.

"Yes, she does," Shiraishi replied, keys clicking rapidly as she continued her typing.

"Uwaaah, I cannot believe Haruka didn't tell me!" the orthopaedic surgeon bemoaned. "Wait, this means I'm the last to find out!" He realised belatedly. Shiraishi gave him a weak smile, lifting her shoulder in a shrug, as a mildly offended expression appeared on his face. Huffing impatiently, he waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, and looked at her. "Hiyama also told me she gave Aizawa the talk."

"The talk?" Shiraishi echoed. "What talk?"

"You know…asking him about his intentions towards you, and threatening him so that he'll treat you well. That talk," Fujikawa clarified.

She looked taken aback. "What?!"

"Oh, Aizawa didn't tell you? Now you know how it feels to be the last one to find something out," Fujikawa said cheekily. "But anyway, back the topic at hand…" he puffed up his chest importantly. "As Aizawa's only male friend and therefore his best friend, I have to ask you, how serious are you towards this relationship?"

"Fujikawa-sensei," Shiraishi heaved a sigh. "I really need to finish these reports. I promised Tachibana-sensei that I'll give these to him by today."

"Shiraishi, I'm being serious here!" Fujikawa looked wounded. "I'm genuinely looking out for the wellbeing of Aizawa," he insisted. "And you as well, I guess," he added, almost as an afterthought.

Shiraishi continued working, thinking to herself that if she ignored him, eventually he'd leave her alone. Unfortunately, Fujikawa was relentless. "Shiraishi! Answer me!"

She stopped typing, and turned around to look at him. There seemed to be no deterring the bespectacled doctor. "You've known me for a decade. I should think you understand me quite well, right? I take everything I do seriously."

" _Too_ seriously, sometimes," Fujikawa muttered, and then he gave her a grin. "Then can I trust you to look after Aizawa?"

Shiraishi glanced at him, not quite knowing how to answer that question. "If it helps," she said finally. "I truly care for Aizawa."

"Well, that's that I want to hear! It's settled then. I don't think I need to threaten you after all…" Fujikawa snickered, as Shiraishi rolled her eyes. "But you know…" he continued, his face turning thoughtful. "I'm happy for you both. You're good for Aizawa, Shiraishi. He needs someone like you."

The honest sincerity in his tone touched her, and Shiraishi smiled at him. "Thank you, Fujikawa-sensei."

"Besides, you're probably the only woman in the world who could put up with him," Fujikawa made a face. "And anyway, I'm sure you make Aizawa _very_ _happy_ ," he smirked, as Shiraishi stared at him blankly, confused at the emphasis of his words. Clucking his tongue at her expression, he edged closer to her, smiling suggestively. "I heard he was already spending nights at your apartment…"

Shiraishi's eyes widened, as the implication of his words hit her. "Fujikawa-sensei!" she squeaked, and at the same time, an annoyed voice was heard.

"Fujikawa." Both of them swivelled around, to see Aizawa at the door, arms crossed, scowling at Fujikawa.

"Ehehehe, Aizawa," Fujikawa greeted nervously. "I was just…you know what, I have to check on a patient in ICU, I'll see you later." Grabbing his stethoscope, he quickly made himself scarce.

Aizawa made a scoffing noise, walking to his table beside Shiraishi, and putting down the files he was holding. She eyed him curiously. "How much of our conversation did you hear?"

"Enough," he said brusquely.

Shiraishi touched his hand briefly. "I know Fujikawa-sensei is nosy, but in his heart, he means well, you know."

Aizawa said nothing, grabbing a file and flipping the lid of his laptop opened. As Shiraishi turned her attention back to her reports, he spoke up suddenly. "He's right, though."

"Eh?"

He turned to look at her, his eyes serious. "You're good for me."

She smiled at him, and she reached out squeezing his hand affectionately. He leaned closer to her, and murmured in her ear. "And you make me _very_ happy."

At that, Shiraishi immediately felt her face flooding with colour. "Aizawa-sensei!"

* * *

A/N: Heh, thought I'll switch it up a little. I did plan to write Hiyama the BFF threatening Aizawa, but **choikimmy** had written something similar and wrote it extremely well, so I better not embarrass myself. I've always liked the Fujikawa/Shiraishi dynamic, so thought I'd try my hand at that.

Work is still mad, so writing time is still limited – but writing remains my outlet to get away from it all. And every review I received is motivates me, so as usual, reviews and comments are love times a zillion! 3


	13. 013: sleeping in

ficlet; _013: sleeping in  
_ pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi  
word count: 435 words  
note: Just a very short one. 😊

* * *

It was morning, and it was one of those rare mornings that Shiraishi did not feel like getting up. As she turned off the alarm on her phone, she shifted with a small groan, trying to block out the slight ray of sunlight flickering through the curtains in the bedroom. Eyes still closed, she shuffled closer to the man next to her, her fingers reaching out to grasp the front of his shirt as she buried her face at the crook of his neck.

Aizawa responded by tightening his arm around her waist as he pulled her even closer to him. "It's time to wake up," he murmured.

She hummed sleepily, shaking her head slightly, grabbing the blankets with one hand and pulling it over her shoulders, and his. "It's not, it's still early."

He let out a small laugh, pressing a kiss on top of her head. "Are you suggesting we sleep in? Who are you, and what have you done with Aizawa Megumi?"

"We both have the morning off today," she yawned. "I don't plan to get to the hospital until eleven-thirty in the morning, and it's only seven o'clock now."

"Eleven-thirty in the morning?" he echoed. "That's two hours before the start of your actual shift. Now you're sounding more like the woman I married."

She poked him lightly in the ribs, looking up at him affectionately. "Aizawa-sensei, if that's an attempt at a joke, it's not a very good one," she teased, smiling as she said it.

He caught her hand with his, intertwining their fingers together. "It's not a joke. It's more like a statement."

"Uh-huh," she hooked her leg lightly around his, her eyes slipping closed again. "So, are you going to let me sleep, or are you going to insist on waking me up?"

"Well," he said, slipping his hand under her night shirt and caressing the bare skin of her waist, "if I say I'm going to insist on waking you up…"

Shiraishi shivered slightly as his fingers trailed down towards her hip. Opening her eyes, she smiled at him lazily, as she rolled over, propping herself on top of him and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Then you'll just have to entertain me."

"That will not be a problem at all," he said, arms locking around her waist as his fingers pushed her night shirt upwards.

"I never imagined you'll ever have a problem," she laughed, as she framed his face with her hands, closing the gap between their faces and kissing him hard.

And they didn't get out of bed until two hours later.

* * *

A/N: I had been pulling twelve-hour workdays for the last three days. Talk about a crazy workload! Anyway, very short ficlet to get my writing in gear, hoping to spare some time this weekend to continue writing the chaptered story.

Reviews will be rewarded with virtual cookies! 😉


	14. 014: past midnight

ficlet; _014: past midnight  
_ pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi  
word count: 677 words  
note: another short one, just to keep the Aizawa/Shiraishi feels alive. Heh.

* * *

Shiraishi entered her apartment, smothering a yawn, closing the door carefully and quietly, as she took off her shoes and hung up her coat. It was past midnight, and she knew that Aizawa would be asleep, having returned home a mere five hours ago after pulling a double shift due to several emergency surgeries. It had been frantically hectic at Lifesaving and Emergency for the last few days – in fact, she herself had also just completed a double shift. If not for Fujikawa literally shoving her out of the hospital, she would probably still be there, even if everything had already slowed down to much quieter pace.

She padded to the kitchen, helping herself to a glass of water. As she sipped, her eyes landed on a take-out box on the dining table, and a note on top of it, in her husband's rather meticulous handwriting.

 _Please eat when you come home. I know you wouldn't have eaten anything substantial at the hospital._

She smiled, opening the box to find beef fried rice from one of their favourite take-away restaurants. He was right, she hadn't had any proper food except for a sandwich, but it was late and she was frankly not that hungry. Still, she scooped out the rice onto a small bowl, heating up a portion to be eaten, and refrigerating the leftovers. She wasn't about to disregard Aizawa's efforts; besides, it was probably wise to get some food in, however not hungry she was feeling.

She finished her small meal quickly, and washed the bowl and chopsticks before heading to the bedroom. Silently, Shiraishi crept into the bedroom, trying to be as quiet as possible. She decided to forgo a shower; not wanting to wake Aizawa, for he wasn't exactly a deep sleeper. She cast a glance towards their bed, he was sound asleep, chest rising and falling in even breaths. Quickly changing out of her work clothes, she put on an oversized t-shirt of Aizawa's that she used as a night dress, and slipped into bed, taking care to minimise her movements. She checked to make sure her phone alarm was on before putting it away on the night table.

As she was doing that, she felt a warm body pressing against her back, and an arm around her waist. "You're home," her husband murmured, dropping a kiss on the curve of her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, squeezing his hand. "Did I wake you?"

She felt him shaking his head, as he shuffled even closer to her. "Not really. I was waiting for you to come home. What time is it now?"

"Nearly one o'clock in the morning," she answered, turning around to face him, curling up against his side as he shifted his arm, sliding it around her shoulders.

"Did you eat the fried rice?" He asked, his eyes still half-closed. "Let me guess, the answer is no," he continued, before she could respond.

"You're wrong this time, Aizawa-sensei," she said, a slightly triumphant tone to her voice. "I _did_ eat, although I didn't finish the whole portion."

"At least that's better than nothing," he stroked the side of her arm idly. "You have to take care of yourself."

"Well," she placed her hand on his cheek and pressed a quick kiss onto his mouth, "I am doing that, and I also have a husband that takes very good care of me."

"Isn't that nice for you," he said, tangling their legs together as he hugged her to him. His hand slid down the side of her body, slipping underneath her (well, his) T-shirt, fingers tracing lazy circles on her hip. There was nothing suggestive about his touch; they were both too tired, and they realised it. It was just comforting and reassuring, borne out of the intimacy of knowing each other as well as they did.

"Very nice indeed," she affirmed, yawning, eyes closing as exhaustion caught up to her.

Aizawa kissed her on the forehead, his own eyes shutting. "Sleep well, Megumi."

"I always do," she murmured, "with you beside me."

* * *

A/N: Still having the writer's block…made worse by the hectic schedule of work nowadays. I actually spent my weekend in the office ahahaha and yes, I started writing this in the office, too. x.x It's not going to let up anytime too soon…but I hope I can still churn out bits and pieces of writing to keep the fandom alive 😊 In the meantime, I'm not giving up on the longer stories, but it will take me much longer to write.

Thanks for all the lovely reviews, please do keep them coming! xx


	15. 015: his, not hers

ficlet; _015: his, not hers  
_ pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi  
word count: 997 words  
note: inspired by a real life event, haha. More notes at the end.

* * *

Shiraishi was late for work, and it was all Aizawa's fault. There was a variety of reasons that led her to this conclusion, which she felt like elaborating none of them, but it was definitely his fault. She skidded into the staffroom, out of breath and disorientated, much to the amusement of Hiyama and Fujikawa.

"This has to be a record," Hiyama said conversationally to Fujikawa. "Shiraishi is actually five minutes late for her shift."

Fujikawa immediately drew a big circle around the day's date on the calendar in the staffroom. "This is a historical day indeed," he said dramatically.

Shiraishi rolled her eyes at their antics. She didn't have time for them; her shift had technically started. She changed in less than five minutes, tying up her hair, clipping her pen and her name tag to her pocket. As she stood front of Fujikawa, gathering her files, the orthopaedic surgeon stared at her, frowning slightly.

"Hey, Shiraishi," he started, gesturing, and then he stopped, as a smirk formed on his face. Beside him, Hiyama's gaze followed his, landing on the staff tag clipped to Shiraishi's pocket, and her eyes widened, before a smirk similar to Fujikawa's appeared on her face.

"What is it?" Shiraishi asked distractedly, looking up, and seeing two grinning faces. "Fujikawa-sensei? Hiyama-sensei?" She prompted, feeling disturbed by the inexplicably gleeful expressions on their faces.

"Oh, nothing," Fujikawa coughed, standing up. "I forgot what I wanted to say. Let's get going, we need to be in the emergency room."

"That we do," Shiraishi agreed, hurrying out.

As she disappeared from the office, Fujikawa turned to Hiyama. "I'm starting to think, should we have told her?"

She shook her head. "Hell, no. This will be payback towards those two for not telling us."

"Yeah, I'm having the exact same thoughts." Raising his hand, he high-fived Hiyama as they both grinned slyly.

* * *

It had been a rather strange morning for Shiraishi. It started off well, they had managed to save and stabilise all the patients that came into the emergency room. As they were removing their bloodied scrubs, catching a moment of rest, she saw Natori and Yokomine giving her weird looks, but yet they said nothing when she queried them. She caught them smiling at each other as she left for the staff station, which was definitely strange.

As she was categorising the patients' notes, Haitani had approached her, asking for guidance. After explaining the scan results to him, as he was taking his notes from her, he glanced sideways, and then his eyes widened, notes nearly falling out of his hands. Retrieving his notes, he muttered something under his breath and scurried off, leaving behind a rather confused Shiraishi.

After that, she had gone to Neurosurgery for a short consult, as Aizawa would not start his shift until later that day. Her discussion with Shinkai was going very well, until he made the strangest comment when handing the patient's file back to her. "Shiraishi-sensei, so you are really _very close_ to Aizawa," he said, with emphasis.

"Wha…What?" Shiraishi stammered, confused. "Shinkai-sensei, why the suddenness of this comment?"

"Oh, nothing," Shinkai said, grinning. "Do let me know if you need another consult, although you should probably check with Aizawa beforehand."

As he walked off whistling, Shiraishi was starting to think everyone was just a little bit crazy that day.

* * *

Shiraishi walked into the staff station, removing her stethoscope from around her neck, frowning. She just had the oddest encounters with a couple of new patients, who had looked at her with confused expressions when she introduced herself to them. One had even asked her to doubly confirm her name, which was just bizarre.

As she took a seat across from Hiyama, flipping open the lid of her laptop, Tachibana appeared beside her. "Ah, Shiraishi. I need to speak to you about the performance reports of the fellows. Can you come and see me before you leave?"

She turned around to face her superior, nodding. "Of course, Tachibana-sensei."

"Thank you," he said, turning to leave, and then he paused. "Shiraishi, why are you wearing Aizawa's staff tag?"

Shiraishi stared down at her staff tag, and saw Aizawa's stoic face staring back at her. She let out a small squeak of horror, taking off the tag in a hurry as a deep flush rose in her cheeks. Tachibana gave her an amused look before leaving, but Hiyama and Fujikawa were in hysterics.

"You knew?" she hissed at them, her face red, as she glared at them. "And you didn't tell me?"

"We _all_ knew," Hiyama chirped. "But we thought we'd have some fun. After all, there's only one way you could've gotten Aizawa's staff tag. You must have taken it from his place, which means…"

Shiraishi hid her face in her hands, groaning softly, as she turned away, intending to find a place to hide, preferably forever, when she collided into a broad chest. She looked up to see Aizawa standing in front of her.

"They knew," she whispered, as he gazed at her flushed face, an eyebrow raised.

"Shiraishi," he said, his tone normal, his voice clear. "You left your staff tag at my place, and took mine by mistake." He looked around the room as he spoke, coolly challenging the rest to say something, or make wisecracks about this development. No one said a word, not even Hiyama, as everyone hurriedly turned their attention back to their work, pretending or otherwise.

Aizawa took his staff tag from Shiraishi, and then hung hers around her neck, his hands lingering for precisely one second before he released the lanyard. "It's okay," he murmured, as he turned and headed towards his station.

She stared after him, feeling reassured and a lot less disconcerted, until her eyes landed on Hiyama. _You're telling me everything_ , _and I mean_ everything, she mouthed, gesturing, as Shiraishi sighed to herself.

If only she had looked properly, before grabbing the wrong tag.

* * *

A/N: My brother-in-law took my sister's staff tag by mistake yesterday, and actually had a patient asking him whether was he born a man or a woman, LOOOOL.

I think this ficlet is a bit random, haha, but hope y'all enjoy the bit of Aizawa/Shiraishi-ness regardless. Reviews/comments are love, goes without saying. Thanks for reading!


	16. 016: in the dark

ficlet; _016: in the dark  
_ pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi  
word count: 1649 words  
note: hahaha omg this is so random and weird and I don't even know what is wrong with my brain…more notes at the end!

* * *

Shiraishi stepped off the elevator as it dinged, and an involuntary shiver ran through her as she headed down the hallway. She disliked the basement of the hospital, because it was dim, dank and it smelt musty most of the time. Thankfully, she didn't need to be in the basement very often, but because of a huge leak in Emergency's stock room, the team was forced to replenish their supplies from one of the hospital's stock rooms in the basement for time being.

She swiped her staff tag at the door, and entered the dark room, fingers groping along the wall for the light switch, as she felt her heartbeat picking up just a little. She didn't like the dark; had never liked it, and she breathed a sigh of relief as light flooded into the room. Consulting her scribbled list, Shiraishi squinted at all the signs and labels on the shelves, picking up supplies and dropping into her cardboard box.

As she moved further into the room, the lights in the room flickered. She froze, glancing nervously at the light above her head, and then she shook her head a little, and began hunting for the last item – IV lines - on her list. She found them soon enough, and hefting the box in her arms, she turned towards the door. It was at that moment that the lights blinked again; once, twice, and then they turned off completely.

Shiraishi gave a surprised shriek as the room plunged into darkness. Placing her box on the floor, she took out her phone, only to see the battery bar blinking red, and then her phone switched itself off. She fumbled in her pocket for her penlight, before remembering that she had lent it to Hiyama before coming down. She swallowed hard, and forced herself to calm down by counting backwards. The door was just in front, as long as she kept walking, she would get there.

Lifting her box again, Shiraishi waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness so she could at least minimally orientate herself. She started walking, her heart thudding wildly, trying to clamp down her panic. She had only taken two steps when she heard a banging sound behind her, and she immediately froze, knowing very well that she was the only person in the room. Another sound was her, and a sense of eeriness enveloped her. She didn't know whether it was her imagination, but suddenly, she felt a waft of cold air rushing through the room, along with a strange whistling sound.

No, Shiraishi didn't exactly believe in ghosts, but given the situation and given her fear of the dark, it was enough to freak her out. But she refused to sit in that room and wait for the light to come back on, so Shiraishi gritted her teeth, gathered all the wits she had, and continued her straight trek towards the door, trying to block out all sounds, including the sound of her own thundering heart.

She made it to the door eventually, and with a rush of relief, she pulled it open, only to walk smack into something. Terrified, Shraishi screamed, her nerves finally giving out on her fully, dropping her box as she stumbled backwards.

"Shiraishi!" A very familiar voice pierced her terror-addled brain. "Shiraishi, it's me."

"Aizawa," she gasped, surging forward and practically collapsing against his chest, her fingers gripping the sleeves of his scrubs. "Don't scare me like that!"

"Scared you?" His tone was sardonic. "You were the one that walked right into me and started screaming."

"But why were you wandering down here in the darkness?"

"I wasn't 'wandering around in the darkness'," Aizawa retorted. "I had my penlight switched on, before you knocked into me, made me drop my penlight, and then you stepped on it."

She was barely listening to him, as she glanced around the dark hallway. "Why aren't the emergency lights coming on?" She mumbled to herself.

"It probably wasn't a power supply problem, but the problem of the lights themselves," he surmised logically.

"But why would every single bulb just go…off, and at the same time?" Shiraishi asked nervously.

"Shiraishi, I'm not an electrician," Aizawa said dryly. "In any case, let's just head back upstairs towards the civilisation of lights, shall we?"

She nodded quickly, and as he took a step towards where the elevator was, she realised she was still plastered against him. Cheeks reddening, she jumped backwards, releasing her hold on his sleeves. "Sorry," she muttered.

He said nothing, taking his phone and tapping on the flashlight function. Immediately, the hallway was bathed in faint light and Shiraishi drew a deep breath of relief. Bending down, she quickly picked up all the scattered supplies, throwing all of it into the box.

"I'll take that," Aizawa handed her his phone before taking the box from her. As they turned away from the door, Shiraishi directing the light towards the direction of the elevator, a loud clatter sounded all of a sudden, from within the supplies room, and they both jolted. Before they could react, another loud clatter was heard from the other end of the hallway. Shiraishi paled, swivelling around, phone in hand, but the light revealed only an empty hallway. Swallowing, she inadvertently grabbed the hem of Aizawa's scrubs as she moved closer to him.

"Shiraishi," his voice was calm, but there was a slight edge to it. "Let's just go."

She was only too glad to do so, as she practically ran towards the elevator, Aizawa behind her. They were two metres from the elevator when the light from Aizawa's phone shut off. She pressed the power button repeatedly, but the phone screen remained blank, the phone unresponsive. Once again, Shiraishi found herself nearly hyperventilating as she felt the pitch black darkness enveloping them.

"Aizawa," she said, her voice tinged with panic as she grabbed him, fingers tightening around his upper arm.

"It's okay. I'm here. Just breathe," she heard his voice commanding her as she felt his arms around her shoulders, strong and sturdy. A banging sound echoed, and she squeaked in barely disguised horror as she covered her face with her hands. "Walk straight ahead, we're nearly at the elevator."

She half-ran and half-stumbled ahead, steadied by Aizawa's arms around her, and it seemed like an eternity before they both reached the elevator, whose doors opened promptly, welcoming them into the lit elevator car. As the doors closed, Shiraishi felt her knees weakening in relief, as she slumped against the wall, breathing heavily.

He watched her quietly for a few seconds, and then he put his hands on her shoulders, looking straight at her. "Are you okay?"

"I think," she said shakily. "I…just really don't like the dark. And the sounds…" her voice trailed off. She was spooked by whatever that had transpired down there, the sounds, and the random eclipsing of all available forms of lighting was really strange, but standing in front of sensible, stoic Aizawa, her thoughts of the supernatural just seemed really ridiculous. "But…what happened back there?" She couldn't help, but wonder out loud.

Aizawa shrugged, and just as he was about to say something, a beeping sound was heard, emitting from his phone that Shiraishi was still clutching. They both looked at the phone, which had seemingly come to life on its own accord, as she was absolutely certain that she did _not_ touch the power button.

Shiraishi shuddered, almost involuntarily, as she shoved the phone into Aizawa's hands, who barely glanced at it before dropping it into his pocket. "You're fine now," he said calmly, patting her once before his hands dropped from her shoulders.

They rode in silence, and as Shiraishi's heartbeat returned to normal, a question popped into her mind. "What were you doing down there, anyway?"

"Looking for you," he said, studying his fingernail as he answered her.

"Eh?"

"Hiyama said you went to the basement for supplies. And I know you hated the basement, so I thought I'd go help you, so you could get out of there quicker." He shot her a sideways glance. "Just as well I was there, if not, you'd be a bigger mess than you are now," he said, matter-of-factly.

"I'm not…" she began, and then she stopped herself. There was no use trying to say otherwise. "Thank you," she said instead.

Aizawa tilted his head in acknowledgement and leaned back, his shoulder touching hers, and Shirashi felt comforted, and safe.

* * *

The elevator doors opened, and Aizawa stepped out, flashlight in hand and a new penlight in his pocket. There was no need for it however, as the lights had come back on. His gaze drifted towards the floor.

He recalled dropping the box of supplies, in his haste to calm Shiraishi. The last he remembered, they should be scattered all over the floor. But the box sat innocuously on the floor, all the supplies were contained within it; and as he picked it up, he saw that the items were stacked and categorised neatly.

He frowned. It kind of didn't make sense that someone would pack up the supplies, and just leave them on the floor. Additionally, they had left the basement less than five minute ago, there wasn't enough time for the whoever it was to appear, clean up the mess, and then vanish.

Unless it wasn't a person…and as that thought entered his mind, he felt a draft of cold air, blowing past him, disappearing as quickly as it came.

Aizawa shook his head, as if to clear it. His imagination was simply running away with him. He quickly picked up the box, and headed back into the elevator. As the door closed, he thought he heard laughter, but just as immediately, he thought he must had imagined it.

After all, there was no such thing as ghosts.

* * *

A/N: Okay, two things. I was challenged to write a Halloween fic for Aizawa/Shiraishi ie ghosts but I suck so much at anything ghostly because I am scared of ghosts. So thinking back to my last ficlet, I gained inspiration from my sister, who actually legitimately did have a scary moment in the hospital basement where she was stranded in the darkness with a phone that just died on her, except that no one saved her, but the lights came on after a minute.

So this ficlet was born, and even thought it was 1000 words, I'm putting it here because I don't know how to write a summary for this as a one-shot, hahaha.

Happy (early) Halloween, everyone, and Imma immensely grateful if you leave me a comment/review after you read this weird piece!

I promise to be less weird in the next one.


	17. 017: touch

ficlet; _017: touch  
_ pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi  
word count: 800 words  
note: something random, kind of fluffy and totally plotless :D

* * *

Shiraishi definitely didn't know what to expect when they stumbled into this whole situation of being _together._ After all, it kind of came out of nowhere, even if things had been a little _different_ between them as of late. What happened was, there had been some – okay, _a lot_ – of alcohol involved, some sort of drunken confession where he had kissed her, and the rest, as they say, was history.

She woke up the next day to find herself encased tightly within the circle of his arms, his bare chest warm against her back. It was surprisingly a lot less awkward than she thought it would be, because Aizawa was never one to beat around the bush, mincing words. He simply said that it had been a long time coming, and it was immediately clear, even to someone as dense (or so Hiyama said) as she was. He told her that he wanted to be with her, and she knew she felt the same way, had felt the same way for a while now.

Shiraishi would be lying if she said she had never, ever thought about them being together, although she never imagined it would eventuate under these circumstances, in her bedroom, in her bed, with their clothes scattered haphazardly on the floor (they definitely didn't linger in undressing each other the night before). She pulled the covers up to her chin, wondering about what to do, what to say, where to go from here, her mind racing at the suddenness of this new development between them. She was a worrier after all, and she was worrying now.

Aizawa looked at her, one eyebrow raised, seemingly able to read her mind, and as he leaned closer to her and kissed her, she stopped thinking. His kiss was tender and reassuring, and she could almost hear his words, as if he had breathed it into her mouth – _it's going to be fine_.

He held her hand for the first time that morning, as they walked out of the main entrance of her apartment complex. There was no preamble, no ceremony; he merely reached out, and curled his fingers around her hand as she fell in step beside him. Her own fingers tightened around his, and they had looked at each other for a moment, small smiles on their faces, and continued walking, hand-in-hand. They didn't let go, not until they were standing at the hospital's entrance. Shiraishi had been the one to let her hand slip from his, almost reluctantly.

There were positives in being together with someone she had known for years. Shiraishi knew that Aizawa was never going to be the romantic sort of boyfriend. There was never going to be flowers, little gifts, surprise dinners and getaways, it wasn't him, and she never expected that of him. But what surprised her was the way he demonstrated his affection towards her.

Shiraishi never thought that Aizawa would be someone who would outwardly display physical affection. It didn't seem like him at all; his personality had always been cold, his manner brusque even as he executed everything he did with perfect efficiency. But now that they were together, she was beginning to see it, this other side of him. Of course, there would be nothing more than a shoulder squeeze, or a brief hand at the small of her back in the presence of other people.

It was different when they were alone. Shiraishi found that Aizawa liked the physical proximity between them. He would pull her to his side when they were having their private breaks at the Heli launchpad, arm around her shoulders, his thumb tracing circles on her upper arm. He would often reach out to tuck her hair behind her ear when stray bangs fell across her eyes. In their quiet nights in together, he would draw her close to him, fitting her against his side, and she would rest her head against his shoulder, feeling like she belonged there.

It was almost natural in its intimacy, Shiraishi thought, how her body fit perfectly against Aizawa's, like two puzzle pieces in the same jigsaw, two pieces of the same mold. As their heartbeats steadied, she settled her head against his chest, his arm automatically slid beneath her shoulders, accommodating her. She shifted closer, slipping her leg between his, as she rested her palm on his abdomen. He dropped a kiss atop her head, as his breathing evened, and she knew he was drifting off to sleep. She pressed a kiss to his chest, listening to the beating of his heart, as her own eyes fluttered shut.

Yes, she didn't know what to expect, but if this was going to be the rest of their lives together, it would be everything that she wanted, and more.

* * *

A/N: can you tell I just want to write something about Aizawa and Shiraishi being all touchy-feely with each other? Cos I really need them to be touchy-feely in the movie (gimme that pleasseeeee), and beyond (cough, Season 4 with them being married, cough).

Anyhow, hope y'all enjoyed this, and as usual, reviews/comments are love! *hearts*


End file.
